


This Is Where You Can Reach Me Now

by bodhirooks



Series: Every Breaking Wave [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Brainwashing, Canon Compliant, Crash Landings, Cultural Misunderstandings, Deaf Character, Deaf Culture, Deaf Hux, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Field Missions Gone Awry, Graphic Depictions of Anger, Hux is Confused, Hux is a Brat, Kylo Ren is a Jerk, M/M, Map to Luke Skywalker, Misunderstandings in General, Mitaka is a Friend, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Graphic Smut, Not A Happy Ending, Pre-TFA, Snoke is an Ass, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6731914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirooks/pseuds/bodhirooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren was an enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped in an atrocious black cape and a damnable, damnable helmet. Hux could not see through helmets. He could not read Kylo Ren’s lips, and unlike most of the bridge crew, Kylo Ren did not know sign language.</p><p>Forced to collaborate with Ren to locate the map to Luke Skywalker, Hux finds the knight is almost more trouble than he's worth.</p><p>Almost. </p><p>Of course, nothing goes according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Troubles

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any confusion - I previously deleted this, but I've decided to repost and I'll be updating on a weekly basis from now on!

Seas of pines; crisp winds across cool worlds.

His eyes held a frightening pallor, shrouding the depths of his hazel irises like clouds hanging above a mountain range - fine mist atop the peaks of his spirit. The curtains had been pulled tight across the windows to his mind since his early days at the Academy, never to be drawn back. His eyes were his strength. Where other senses failed him - brought him low in the sights of his peers - his eyes built him up, launched him straight to the top. Brendol Hux II could read any eyes, deduce any words without reading lips.

Of course, he did know how to read lips, but it had been a long journey from point A to point B. He’d lost his hearing when he was three. Pneumonia claimed his cochleas during a rare interval of outdoor activity, when snow had blessed his baren home world and an excitable toddler with a shock of red hair and wide eyes dragged his nanny out to play. The day after he collapsed in the foyer, and spent a month in the infirmary. His mother never visited, his father only appearing to speak to his physician about provisions for the implant (1).

He hated the thing the moment they turned it on. His brain was flooded with static, and every chance he could get he’d turn it off, plunging the world into blissful silence. His father would yell, but of course he couldn’t hear him.

Over the years Hux taught himself everything he needed to get by: speech, sign language, and an aloof disregard for anything that left his father’s lips. He’d been given an implant, so he wouldn’t use it. His hair was buzzed to make room for the protruding aid, so he grew it out long (2). Expectations for his success at the Academy were low, so he fought his way to the top, earning perfect marks and mastering that frozen stare.

Rebellious he may have been, but when curtains are closed, the rooms beyond grow rank, dust clinging to the air, walls wrought with decay.

Hux didn’t allow himself many feelings, except in the company of select individuals. His closest working companion was Carol Phasma (3), his most loyal trooper and a truly remarkable woman. Her eyes were blue, like a calming sea, but below the surface of the water lurked a maelstrom, authority demanded in the way she held her body and commanded her troops. Hux was very fond of the woman, honored to hold her loyalty.

His best friend, however, was Dopheld Mitaka. Based strictly on their professional relationship, many wouldn’t think they were so close, but they got along exceedingly well. Mitaka’s eyes were chocolate brown, sparkling with emotion, contrasting sharply with Hux’s blank stare, as did many aspects of their personalities. Having met at the Academy, they were drawn to each other by default. Mitaka was comparatively small, while many equated Hux’s Deafness with stupidity, and so they were fast attached. Hux taught Mitaka to sign and beat anyone who attacked either of the pair into brutal submission. Mitaka signed to Hux when teachers had their backs turned and he couldn’t read their lips. They were each other’s confidants, and when Hux reached the rank of General he brought Mitaka with him. It was a co-dependency which bred the best kind of friendship, and Hux would never be more grateful for anything but the opportunity it gave him to ruffle Mitaka’s feathers.

“He’s cute.”

“He’s really not.”

“What about that one?"

“Hux.”

“What about _that_ one?”

“Stop.”

Hux snorted, enjoying the way the back of his throat vibrated roughly against his vocal chords. His cochlear was turned off, as the officer’s cafe was loud and he found the idle chatter annoying. His eyes were busy though, scanning the faces of the officers sitting at nearby tables over Mitaka’s shoulder. “Why?” (4) he asked, wiggling his middle finger beside his forehead in question. “You never let me do you any favors.”

Mitaka rolled his eyes. “Stop,” (5) he repeated, bringing the side of one hand into the palm of the other. “You know I hate it when you do this.”

“No you don’t,” Hux shrugged, grinning smugly as he sipped his tea. Subtle hints of mint drifted into his nostrils, and he let his eyes slide shut as everything became that perfect smell. Though sight was a necessity, smell was a freedom. Smell carried him to distant places and simple comforts, the same way music pulsing through his veins sent his mind soaring.

A light tap on his shoulder had Hux returning to the real world, taking in the tense set of Mitaka’s shoulders as the lieutenant pointed to something behind him. He turned, curiosity falling from his face in place of a mean grimace.

Hux did not allow himself many feelings. His friends were the exception, and this. But this was not his friend.  

Kylo Ren was an enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped in an atrocious black cape and a damnable, damnable helmet. Hux could not see through helmets. He could not read Kylo Ren’s lips, and unlike most of the bridge crew, Kylo Ren did not know sign language. When Kylo Ren was around, Hux was forced to turn his cochlear on. Hux hated him (6).

The slits of Ren’s helmet met Hux’s eyes, and Hux huffed, bringing a hand to the side of his head and carding his fingers through his hair to switch on his cochlear. The room gave a jolt, an electric shock rewiring Hux’s ears so the mouths surrounding him screeched and croaked and his head ached as his senses readjusted.

“Are you alright, sir?” he heard Mitaka ask, recognizing the man’s voice only just. Inflection rarely made sense to him beyond the visual level, but the words registered and Hux nodded. Rising to his feet and approaching Ren, Hux was relieved when the room fell silent, the atmosphere of the sleek cafe noticeably darker, gray ceilings and walls pressing in and imbuing a sense of claustrophobia. Ren was an imposing presence, but Hux was not one easily intimidated. He gestured for the knight to follow him outside, and Ren complied.

The cavernous corridor dispelled some of the suffocating air Ren inflicted in the officer’s lounge, but Hux refused to look relieved. Gaze forever cool, he rounded on Ren when they were a respectable distance down the hall, the echoes of their boots hollow and far too loud. “What can I do for you, Lord Ren?” he asked, hating the sound of his own voice.

If Ren thought Hux’s Deaf accent (7) was cretinous, he made no mention of it, nor did he ever. “Supreme Leader has requested our presence in the Audience Chamber,” he said, distorted voice grinding unpleasantly against Hux’s implant.

“I see,” Hux replied, brow furrowing beneath his bangs. “You could have delegated the message, you know.”

Ren’s reply sent ice spilling down Hux’s neck. “I wasn’t sure word would reach you.” (8)

Hux bristled, lamenting the greatcoat he’d left on the bridge. It made him larger, broader through the shoulders, and though Ren only had a few inches’ advantage in height he had the feeling the knight was looking down on him now, and it made him sick.

“Very well,” he said, unable to convey much of a bite without his hands, though his face twisted into a disgusted sneer. “If you’ll give me a moment to return to my rooms I will meet you before the Supreme Leader.” When Ren failed to give an immediate response Hux whirled on his heel, lacing his hand back into his hair. He switched off the cochlear so he couldn’t hear Ren even if the asshole tried to reply.

The halls quickly narrowed, durasteel giving way to the black plaster of the Residential Wing. Hux slammed the door to his rooms, feeling the vibrations cascade through the toes of his boots. He launched himself at his bed, crisp lines of his uniform blurring with the pristine sheets as he thrashed in frustration, the tremors of his screams running deep into his chest. Some would call it childish: he would call it damage control. Years of being labeled unapproachable had taught him to control himself where he could but release himself when he must.

Hux only pulled himself from the brink when the bed started vibrating, and he glanced up to see the lights flashing above his head (9). He did not want to be disturbed, but knew he would have to pull himself up to see the Supreme Leader regardless. Rolling off the bed, he palmed the com-link on his nightstand. “Enter,” he barked, standing to adjust his uniform and regain his composure.

He needn’t have bothered. Mitaka walked in, gaze heavy with sympathy and arms full of Hux’s greatcoat, bless his soul. “You okay?” (10) he signed, thin eyebrows raised and mouth lax like a boy uncertain whether to approach his over-emotional mother.

Hux sighed. “Fine,” (11) he replied, bringing one hand to his chest by the thumb and wiggling his fingers. “Ren and I have a meeting with the Supreme Leader in a few moments.”

Mitaka nodded, holding Hux’s coat up by the shoulders. Hux turned, slipping it on with a nod of thanks. He would normally bypass the sleeves and let it hang from his shoulders, but in the presence of Snoke and Ren he wouldn’t need his hands free to sign. “Thank you,” (12) he signed, observing Mitaka’s wariness even as the lieutenant made to leave with him. “I’m fine, really,” he insisted, pulling on his gloves as they left the room and strode across the Finalizer, splitting as Mitaka made for the bridge and Hux continued to the Supreme Leader’s audience chamber.

Ren was waiting for him outside the massive gothic doors. The knight’s hands were clasped behind his back, and Hux could practically feel the pull of leather against leather, drawn into the well-worn seams and cracks of the rough material that hugged Ren’s hands, shrouding the fingers that could so easily bend to form words and phrases and pictures Hux could understand. His helmet faced resolutely forward, the same minutia of detail marring its sleek surface, making it so distinctly Ren but infuriatingly impersonal. Hux had no doubt Ren was aware of both his approach and the fire in his mind, but couldn’t bring himself to care. Stopping a few paces to Ren’s right, he mimicked the knight’s stance, waiting to be summoned.

Hux couldn’t hear the doors groan open, but remained unphased as an abrasive wind caressed his cheeks, lifting his hair at the roots and beckoning him by the tails of his coat into the Supreme Leader’s presence.

Mussed hair beyond righting, Hux struggled to switch on his cochlear as he approached Supreme Leader Snoke’s dias, Kylo Ren close in his peripherals. Feeling around for the switch beneath his gloves, the cochlear whirred to life, revealing once more the monotonous echo of boots and the gross static that was only louder in the oppressive silence. All noise ceased as the pair bowed, looming hologram flickering to life.

“Rise.”

Hux did not pay much attention to the way voices sounded. Most voices seemed the same, men and women alike. There were only two exceptions to this rule: Ren’s annoying vocoder and the terrifying purr of Supreme Leader Snoke. Snoke’s voice sent dread snaking down his spine, low and malicious unlike anything sight or smell or touch could conjure in Hux’s heart. Nevertheless he complied, eyes glinting dully as he stared up at the Supreme Leader’s twisted face, waiting for his next command.

“Lord Ren,” Snoke rumbled, addressing his apprentice like the puppet-master he was. “I trust your meditations have not been in vain.”

If Hux were anything but what he was, he would not have noticed the subtle flinch Ren betrayed in the dip of his head and the rise of his throat. “They have not, my Master,” he replied.

“Good,” Snoke drawled, leaning back in his throne, eyes drifting lazily between the two men beneath him. “There have been rumors,” he began, and it took every ounce of Hux’s will-power to

keep his thoughts in line and radiating respect, “That a map to Luke Skywalker has emerged.”

This time, anyone with eyes to see would have noticed Ren’s reaction. The knight drew up sharply, hands bunching into fists and spine vibrating with tension, sucking what little light there was from the room in a dizzying spell, the enormous space of the rotunda shrinking, making Snoke’s next resonating words cramped, nearly impossible for Hux to follow.  

“Kylo, Commander of the Knights of Ren. Hux, General of the First Order. My command to you is this: Find the map to Luke Skywalker, using whatever means necessary. Find the Jedi, kill him, and do not report back to me until you have done so.”

Hux felt his heart leap into his throat. “Supreme Leader!” he protested, words heavy and unfamiliar on his tongue. “You can not expect-!”

“What I expect is my order to be fulfilled,” Snoke replied, chilling gaze turned fully on the ever-more-diminutive Brendol Hux. “You are dismissed.” In a moment Snoke’s image faded, plunging the room into terrible darkness.

Hux was breathing hard, hands shaking as he tore off his gloves and switched his cochlear off. “Fool!” he shouted, glad he couldn’t hear his voice echo off the high ceiling, a mocking ghost of what could have been. Kylo Ren was facing him now, expectant, having obviously spoken. Hux snarled, signing angrily as he spoke.

“I can not understand you with that stupid mask!”

Vision white with fury he hurried from the chamber, already trying to formulate a plan to set into motion Snoke’s impossible assignment. He should not have turned his cochlear off. Caught unaware he was seized by the elbow from behind, yanked off his feet and sent colliding into the nearest wall, sights flooded by Ren’s mask, teeth set on edge to keep himself from screaming as an unfamiliar hand riffled through his hair and forcibly switched his cochlear on, and never had he felt so violated as he did when that static charge bolted through his mind without his permission (13).

“You shall not disregard me again.” The command was set in stone, and Hux could only stare disbelieving into the slits that hid Ren’s eyes. “You shall not insult the Supreme leader in my presence, nor ever.”

Hux felt warm tears prick at his eyes, tears of rage and frustration. “The Supreme Leader can not expect us to scour the entire galaxy for one measly map!” he insisted, trying not to focus on what had just happened, trying to defend his words. “We should use our resources elsewhere, to build-”

“Your superweapon shall be completed in time,” Ren interrupted, the rationality of the statement throwing Hux off, “But your expertise is needed elsewhere. You will help me find the map.” Before Hux could reply Ren had gone, a flurry of black disappearing around the corner.

Hux did not move for a long time, breaths evening out though a tightness remained in his chest. He reached up and turned his cochlear off, skin around the metal base tender from the rough slide of leather against his scalp. Ren had touched him. Ren had touched him in a very bad way.

“Do not do that again…” he mumbled belatedly, words barely air through his lips. Righting his jacket with unsteady hands, he turned towards the bridge, resolve unwavering even in retreat.

* * *

 

Notes:

(1) [ Diagram of the Cochlear Implant ](http://cochlear-implant.co.uk/images/CIdiagram_MAESTRO%20Cross%20Section_720.jpg)

(2) [ :) ](http://www.thesundaytimes.co.uk/sto/multimedia/dynamic/00361/STA11GLEESON2_361717k.jpg)

(3) Homage to [ ‘Different Forms of Combat’ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5819314) by [ versus_a_blank_page ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/versus_a_blank_page/pseuds/versus_a_blank_page)

(4) [“Why?”](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/w/why.htm)

(5) [ “Stop.” ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/05/e0/51/05e05180778af513bc6bf71a641bdfad.jpg)

(6) Reference to TFA script direction.

(7) The Deaf accent is a bit hard to describe, so here's a [ video ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHVR09fSwOg)of a lovely Deaf woman demonstrating her accent!

(8) Assuming the Deaf won’t understand you because they’re Deaf is very insulting, as it implies you view them as intellectually inferior.

(9) A very common system found in Deaf homes involves linking things like doorbells or fire alarms to lights and beds. Lights will flash and beds will vibrate to alert the Deaf to visitors or emergencies.

(10) [“You okay?”](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/o/okay.htm)

(11) [“Fine.”](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/f/fine.htm)

(12) [“Thank you.”](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/t/thankyou.htm)

(13) Never do that. Just, don’t do it.

 

Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.imaginehux.tumblr.com)!


	2. Running to Stand Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do you know where it is, exactly?” Hux questioned, feet aching as they crested a sharp rise. “Does it hold some sort of signature? How did you track it here, of all places?” 
> 
> Ren did not reply for a time, leading Hux to believe his inquiries had been dismissed. He was about to repeat himself when the knight deigned to speak. “So many questions…”

_“Ren!”_

It was no use. The knight was out cold, thick streams of blood gliding down his thin face, all the pallor and inanimacy of a cadaver. The shuttle was falling apart, durasteel panels vibrating wildly as it spiraled out of control, tossing the bodies within like cheap play-things. Screams ripped through his throat: he threw his arms in front of his face, shielding his head as he was bashed against the useless command console. His shoulder snapped. Vision blurring, an incongruous haze of reds and grays, he couldn’t tell up from down or left from right as he reached blindly for Ren’s prone form, pulling the unconscious man to his chest as he slid by, dodging the forsaken helmet as it sailed overhead. Metallic air tearing through his lungs, they pinwheeled across the length of the craft. Hux didn’t see the loose partition until it was too late, until it hit-

 

-

 

It had taken Hux far longer than he cared to admit to realize Ren had actually complimented him.

_“Your superweapon shall be completed in time, but your expertise is needed elsewhere. You will help me find the map.”_

No one had ever quite referred to what Hux had as ‘expertise’. Not even Hux himself. Getting from point A to point B was in his opinion a combination of circumstance and cowardice: no one knew how to say ‘no’. This was the case with his father. Though the man levied out his rules, he never enforced them, as if his son were an inconsolable and intemperate beast caged by his condition that might lash out if poked too firmly with the proverbial stick. Hux always found this extremely offensive, and so had no qualms in using others’ infirmity to his advantage. That’s what defines strategy, after all.

So when others didn’t automatically conform to Hux’s desires, he _would_ lash out.

He’d lost his temper in front of Ren, a folly that allowed the knight the opportunity to belittle him severely. Even so, Ren had paid him a compliment, as if impressed. Too caught up in the heat of the moment to realize it, Hux mulled over the matter until Ren returned from a precursory field mission later that week.

Stationed on the bridge, as per his usual schedule, Hux stood before the massive viewports, absorbed in a budgeting spreadsheet on his datapad. As he tapped away at the screen, he bobbed his head, humming along to the music blasting in his ears. The headset had been a gift from Mitaka when they’d graduated the academy, and he used them frequently when the monotony of the bridge or his job in general bored him. (1)

A tap on his shoulder: Captain Phasma. Hux removed the earbuds, tucking them into the unbuttoned collar of his uniform jacket. “Yes, Captain?” he inquired, intending to leave his cochlear on.

Phasma, however, went about removing her helmet, for which Hux was grateful. Her face was alway a welcome relief from what Hux and Mitaka referred to fondly as the ‘chrome dome.’ “Lord Ren has returned, and is requesting your presence in Conference Room B.”

Hux flipped off the cochlear, reading Phasma’s lips with ease. It was unusual for him and Ren to have private meetings, but he was willing and couldn’t very well say no. “Thank you, Captain,” he replied, setting his datapad and the headset on Mitaka’s workstation as he passed, trusting they would find their way back to his quarters.

Buttoning his collar as he went, Hux took the precaution of flipping the implant back on _before_ he approached Ren. If he’d spent too much time ruminating on the knight’s words, he held the opposite to the knight’s actions. He’d simply tried not to think about it, but as he walked to meet (confront?) the terror of a man, a swell of nervousness bubbled in his chest.

The conference-room door materialized far too suddenly; Hux refused to hesitate, palming it open to reveal an unusual sight.

Few would have found anything out of the ordinary. The space was large, all smooth planes of silver and silicon, a small circular table surrounded on three sides by rounded viewports. Space loomed large through the sleek transparisteel, lending a dark shine to the pristine floors and the curvature of Kylo Ren’s mask. Hux stood, enamored by the sheer _aesthetic_ , taken off-guard by how perfectly Ren stood out in this setting - singular, almost belonging but not quite, the enormity of his power straining against the walls and the ceiling - before striding towards him, clearing his throat to announce his presence.

Ren turned. A vague flick of the hand beckoned Hux to sit, and he complied, lowering himself onto a straight-backed chair. The cushion creaked uncomfortably against the seat of his pants, but Hux regulated himself carefully, refusing the twitch in his eye. Ren stood a short distance away, unmoving.

Hux cleared his throat again, for his own sake. “You wished to speak to me in private, Lord Ren.” It wasn’t a question, but delicately phrased nonetheless.

For a time it seemed he would get no reply. Ren continued to stand, and Hux was certain an inscrutable gaze was attempting to tear him apart through metal slits. “Yes. I do.”

Hux raised a brow, hands folded in his lap and legs crossed at the ankle. “What about?”

Another onslaught of silence. Silence had only ever been Hux’s companion, but now it was raking its nails down his back. Kylo took a step forward. Two. Hux waited.

“The map. I believe I have found it.”

Hux was surprised. “The entire thing?” he asked incredulously, unable to abate the movement of his hands as he spoke.

This seemed to put Ren off, as the man turned his back, retreating into his large frame like a reptile into its shell. “No.” The word was laced with a bitterness only familiar to Hux because he’d tasted it on his own tongue. “But an integral component of it.”

Hux was tempted to point out that every piece was integral, as without even one piece the entire thing would be useless (2). He held his tongue. “Where is it?”

“Devaron.” (3)

Racking his memory, Hux recalled an innocuous forest planet with an abandoned temple complex. It was once a great haven of the Jedi, but now lay baron. Unusual in and of itself, but not for a hermit taking advantage of discrete affiliates. The next question: “Who has it?”

Silence varied in degree, as Hux had experienced in Snoke’s presence, and now Kylo Ren’s. This silence was weighted. “That remains to be seen.”

It almost sounded like he was being courteous.

Hux counted that as a small victory. “All due respect, why are you not on your way to retrieve it?”

Something in Ren’s posture shifted, as if he were considering Hux very thoughtfully. Hux sat through it, unnerved, but scrutinizing Ren in turn. The man’s broad shoulders were perpetually hunched, difficult to perceive through the folds of his cape - but not for Hux, whose gaze was understandably sharp and mind quick. He knew Ren was weighed down by the gravity of the Dark Side, but needed to remain imposing. He knew Ren radiated rage to conceal something else, something weak. He knew Ren was an open book, otherwise he would have no need to wear the mask.

The problem was not knowing _why._

Why is everything in strategy, after all.

“Is this a job interview?”

By this Ren seemed amused. “Do you think it ought to be? Supreme Leader very explicitly ordered us to work jointly on finding the map.”

Ren’s amusement sparked something feral in Hux, encouraging him to lean forward and smile suavely, sickly. “I think it is,” he said, words like acid, “Because you don’t think Deaf people should go on field missions.”

The silence didn’t have time to manifest, to reveal itself as spiteful or malicious or cunning. Ren did not reply immediately, and so Hux filled the silence for him.

“You’re an ableist. A gods-damned ableist!” (4)

“Careful, General.” (5)

“You’re an ableist and you know it!” Hux slid to the edge of his seat, toes tapping out a furious rhythm that sent his knees bouncing with pent-up rage. Jabbing an angry finger, he was on the cusp of a tirade. “First you forcibly switched on my implant, and now-!”

In the electric moment it took Hux’s heart to pound out a single beat, he lost his breath. First he thought he was being strangled, seized and made nothing at the knight’s deadly hand. But then he realized. He was strangling himself. On his own words.

Refusing to fly off the handle, refusing to miss any minutia of detail as he had when he’d yelled after Snoke’s command, he shut his mouth, steadied his breathing. Closed his eyes for a bare second, leaned back in his seat. “Well,” he said, as if nothing unseemly had occurred, “I suppose now you’re just being an asshole.”

Kylo Ren had the shit-headed audacity to laugh. It was a disagreeable sound, like sandpaper grating. It didn’t last long. “If this is a ‘job interview’, you’ve earned the position.” The knight approached, gait heavy, standing over Hux so the general had to crane his chin to see the mask. “Assemble a squadron. Meet me at my command shuttle at 1500 hours.”

As the knight left, Hux ran through their entire conversation in his mind. When exactly he’d secured himself in Ren’s good graces he didn’t know, but what he _did_ know was he had twenty minutes to prepare. He returned to his quarters, finding the headphones waiting for him.

 

-

 

Thirty troopers accompanied them to Devaron. The flight was just under three-quarters of an hour, Hux and Ren in the knight’s command shuttle with the troopers following in a series of transports and TIE-fighters. Hux would say the silence was deafening, but puns weren’t among his preferred channels of humor. The silence was weighted, as it was in the conference room, but slightly variant: anticipatory rather than assessing.

Dropping out of lightspeed, the coniferous planet grew in the glinting viewport, ensconcing Hux’s line of sight in stripes of green and brown. It was lovely, recalling to mind Hux’s homeworld and the far-distant times of his childhood. He wasn’t given long to reminisce. Ren piloted the shuttle to the surface with expert grace, touching down in a vast clearing. A fine mist encroached on the legs of the vessel, breathing wetly against the glass, casting the landscape into a muted lime pallor.

Hux peeled his eyes away from the sight when he heard the hiss of the hatch opening and the grind of the ramp being lowered. Grimacing in distaste, he rose, following the knight commander to the back of the shuttle.

As Ren descended onto the planet’s surface, Hux had to pause with bated breath. The man moved like a wraith, floating above the fog where his capes ended and the ghosts of the world around them began. It was a powerful image, and nothing could have added more gravity than the utter, stony silence, disrupted only by the annoying brush of fabric against fabric wearing at Hux’s mind.

Stepping into the cess, not at all relishing the squish beneath the heels of his boots, Hux followed a short ways behind, watching his troopers emerge from his peripherals to stand in neat lines, awaiting their next command. Walking up beside Ren, he crossed his wrists behind his back. Lips loose with excitement, he transferred command to the knight, who betrayed not even the barest hint of anticipation.

The troopers dispersed, forming a defensive arc as Hux and Ren waded farther from the safety of their craft. White plastoid armor glinted in the dull light of the planet’s sun, which sank further into the horizon as they marched on. Hux’s senses were abuzz, eyes dry with focus, intent not to miss a beat as Ren called out directions, leading them toward their prize.

“How do you know where it is, exactly?” Hux questioned, feet aching as they crested a sharp rise. “Does it hold some sort of signature? How did you track it here, of all places?”

Ren did not reply for a time, leading Hux to believe his inquiries had been dismissed. He was about to repeat himself when the knight deigned to speak. “So many questions…”

It wasn’t a rude statement, but it held a sort of exasperation Hux was oddly comfortable with. Shaking away the chills that raced up his spine at the thought he’d actually gotten to _know_ the man, he let the not-answer slide. Something else had grabbed his attention.

The Jedi Temple loomed, mighty and imposing, appearance a somber testimony to the collapse of the old Order. Shadows fell over the slanted remains of what was once a living, breathing place, brought low by the ceaseless onslaught of time, sunk into the ground and worn away at the edges until the delicately laid embellishments were as faded as the letters scrawled on ancient graves, peeling traces of slate and chartreuse trailing gently up crumbling spires from another age. (6)

There was little contrast between where the soft, hazy ground ended and the cobbled, overgrown entry-path began. The air was stale, giving the place an aged yet timeless mien, adding to the growing mystery of their quest. The troopers stared in slack-jawed wonder, a feat to perceive given they were covered head to toe. Hux, of course, picked up on the fine detail instantly, as he did the temple and its image and its age.

He wasn’t very impressed.

It was far too small, too rooted for Hux’s tastes. He preferred the buoyancy of space: a predictable sway, like a boat acrest the sea.

Ren, however, had been sucked into another world. The knight was canted forward, traveling on the tips of his toes as if pulled by invisible strings. “It’s here…” he breathed, a muttered rasp through his helmet.

Hux frowned, bringing up a fist to halt the troops. “How do you know?” he asked, curiosity lost to his voice as he watched Ren continue on, what little fog remained parting around him like whispering pawns for a king.

“There is a powerful aura upon this place,” Ren replied, Hux having to catch up with a series of quick, efficient strides. “An aura meant to conceal…”

“And I assume you can pass through it like butter?” Hux retorted, barb ricocheting off the high walls that grew from decrepit floors he regarded with a sneer. Ren failed to respond, which was concerning, given the man always rose to an insult.

_Great,_ Hux mused, _I really_ have _gotten to know him..._

“Shall I have the troops heel?” he huffed impatiently, as the funneled design of the temple made it difficult for them to follow as the hall-like implement narrowed. Ren nodded, and Hux called the men off, instructing them to wait.

Neither realized it then, but they shouldn’t have gone in alone, or at all.

Or together.

Hux moved into the chamber as if in a dream, mind flowing out around him as if pulled by lace. In a fluid moment his surroundings ceased to exist, and he stood in an open plane, snowflakes falling around him, dancing through the air to mesh with the fine layer of ice beneath his feet. His lips parted in a gentle show of wonder, eyes glazing over with the power of memory. Though his thoughts and his body remained the same, time seemed to still, caught in the drawn out portrait of his home, in the place of the three-year-old boy he used to be. The air was cold, picking at the ends of his hair, demanding he release a pent-up breath to mix with the steam of angel’s tears. That’s what they were, his mother had said. Snowflakes. They were the tears of angels whose loved ones had been broken by the world. Those wings came at a price, his mother would say. The price for her was her son’s hearing. Holding out a gloved hand, one, two, three snowflakes came to rest on his palm, and he watched them fade, head sinking until his nose brushed the thick fabric that caressed the heavens’ grief.

“No…” he breathed, clenching his fist, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the pale bright hues of snow and sorrow. “No!” He threw his hand out, face turned to the sky, renouncing love and its consequence. The word failed to crackle through his mind, but its meaning scratched the back of his throat, ripping out a barren sob. Stumbling back, the low hum of his cochlear returned, and the vision faded. He was returned to his reality as quickly as he’d left it, standing once again in a small stone room with Ren at his side.

Ren. Had he…? Hux cleared his throat roughly, reaching out a shaking hand to tap at the other’s shoulder. “What-... Did you-...?”

The knight didn’t move. No, that certainly wasn’t it. He _vibrated._ Not a nervous tremble, or a raging shake, but a vibration of pure energy and sparks. Hux was startled, drawing away immediately. “Hey!” he shouted, trying to get _something_ out of him.

Ren lurched, but it was a lazy thing, almost an afterthought. A covered hand rose, and Hux thought for a moment he’d garnered the man’s wrath. But then, curled fingers relaxed, and a small, ragged piece of metal barely two inches long rolled into the cup of the man’s palm.

“How-?!” Hux was practically gasping for air, brows furrowed and head shaking with confusion and anger. He bit his lip roughly, staring at Ren. Nothing made sense. None of this made any sense.

Ren’s behavior least of all. He was just as entranced as he had been before, turning and leaving the chamber just as he’d entered: an enigma. Hux followed, barely regarding the troopers who watched them walk by before falling into step behind their commanders.

His mind was reeling, tips of his fingers alight with numbness and terror. The trip back to their shuttle was quick and the silence unbreached. Only when they’d escaped the planet’s atmosphere and Hux could focus his sights on the deathly expanse of space did he speak again.

“What was that.” Voice cool and calm, not even bothering to inflect the question, he stared resolutely out the viewport, posture precise and resolve unwavering.

Ren didn’t reply. _This_ time, the silence was maddening.

“I _said_ , what was that!” he demanded, most definitely inflecting the question now. He turned his head sharply, poised to strike again.

He froze.

The helmet had come off.

That could be the only explanation. The helmet had simply fled of its own accord. There was no _godly_ way Ren had chosen to remove it, so it must have just _left_. But no, it was sitting in Ren’s lap, leveling him with the same hardened gaze as when it sat on the knight’s head. Hux swallowed roughly, daring himself to meet the man’s face.

Slowly, he forced himself to look up, inch by inch. Higher, higher, heart hammering in his chest, until-

Good god, those _eyes_.

They were the first thing he saw, and the last thing he needed to see. They were deep pools of the richest brown, open and expressive and _weak_. But god, were they beautiful. They sat perfectly atop sculpted cheek bones set in a young, narrow face, framed by waving locks of raven-black hair and boxed in by a handsome nose and firm brows.

“It was incredible…”

Without the vocoder, Ren’s voice was a deep, smooth timbre, and Hux enjoyed the sound of it. That wasn’t something he could say of much else - music, Mitaka, and even Phasma on occasion, but even those had taken some experiment and getting used to. Here, he felt he could listen to Ren for hours. Listen, not just watch, though he certainly would. He would watch the pale skin drawn over his slightly stubbled chin, watch the movement of Ren’s lips just for the sight, not the meaning.

Oh god. Oh god, he was _fantasizing_ , wasn’t he? Tempted to shake his head clear of such foolish notions, he ended up shaking something else into place. The meaning of that vision, what had happened back on Devaron in the depths of the Jedi temple.

And yes. It was incredible.

They’d also been staring at each other for what was probably going on three minutes, and Hux couldn’t help but wonder what reverse-miracle of nature could have caused _that_ of all things. He would have accused himself of exaggerating, but moments later he was proven right.

Ren began to shake. For real this time, not the vibrating he’d done earlier. His head started rocking, jawset firm in anger and eyes wild in pain. A thin line of blood weaseled out of the man’s nose, and the bones seemed to melt from his body. Before Hux could stop it the man’s skull collided with the console, and the lights went out. Thin walls creaked and groaned, the air heating rapidly. Shit. 

_“Ren!”_

It was no use. The knight was out cold, thick streams of blood gliding down his thin face, all the pallor and inanimacy of a cadaver. The shuttle was falling apart, durasteel panels vibrating wildly as it spiraled out of control, tossing the bodies within like cheap play-things. Screams ripped through his throat: he threw his arms in front of his face, shielding his head as he was bashed against the useless command console. His shoulder snapped. Vision blurring, an incongruous haze of reds and grays, he couldn’t tell up from down or left from right as he reached blindly for Ren’s prone form, pulling the unconscious man to his chest as he slid by, dodging the forsaken helmet as it sailed overhead. Metallic air tearing through his lungs, they pinwheeled across the length of the craft. Hux didn’t see the loose partition until it was too late, until it hit-

 

* * *

 

 Notes:

(1) A lot of Deaf people love music, including those who don't have Cochlears - the vibrations can be enjoyable!

(2) *Insert Star Wars: Episode VII*

(3) Super-fans please don't hurt me - I know very little about extended lore and am using Devaron as a plot device that will further come into play!

(4) Ableist: An individual prejudiced towards those with disabilities

(5) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

(6) An homage to [for there is nothing lost](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5876530/chapters/13542787) by [coldhope](http://archiveofourown.org/users/coldhope/pseuds/coldhope)

 

Come talk to me on [tumblr!](http://www.imaginehux.tumblr.com)


	3. Where the Streets Have No Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The knight’s lips parted minutely, forming words Hux couldn’t decipher. As the man rose Hux shuffled back farther, meeting Ren’s gaze at level. The man’s expression was confused, quizzical, and Hux made out the next phrase to pass Ren’s tongue: his name. 
> 
> “Yes,” he said. “I’m alive. How, I don’t know…”

Everything was white.

The world spun and his head ached. For an irrational beat he thought he was dead, but the shaking breath stolen between chapped lips told him otherwise. With a groan, he tried to sit from the neck up, but his right arm refused and his left wrist tingled. Thick smoke curled around his nose, making him woozy and nauseous. He turned his head to find the source.

Two things happened, then. First, Hux spotted their mangled craft, high atop a white hill, spewing dark fog and fire. The second was the sting of cold snow against his torn scalp, back arcing up from the sharp hiss and burn. When he’d managed to peel his head from the ground, Hux noticed another two things. Firstly, his mind had supplied the hiss, not his ‘ears’, and he couldn’t hear a thing. Secondly, the smoke in his nose was _not_ coming from the far-off shuttle, but the side of his head.

His cochlear was fried.

A raw shout ripped from his throat, sensation agreeing with his panic as his tingling hand lurched to his head. The metal above his ear was hot to the touch, even with his gloves, and he jerked away immediately, only just noticing the leather was torn at the wrist where his chrono had melted against his skin. Burning tears streamed down his face as he furiously bit his lip, trying to ward of the tingling that would surely give way to searing pain in an instant. He closed his eyes, turning his head away, willing the trembling in his body to subside. Panicking would only make things worse, he reasoned. Reason, reason, _how can I reason…?!_  

He needed to remove the pieces of metal. Hux was smart enough to know that, but he was also smart enough to know his other shoulder was dislocated and he couldn’t sit up. Alright, so the shoulder would have to come first. Shifting his concentration, he tried to formulate an impromptu plan of attack. Right, it was a posterior dislocation, so he’d need to pop it in using forward pressure. He could do that. All he needed was to sit up high enough and fall backwards on his shoulder, and god that was a bad, _bad_ idea, but his temple and his wrist was starting to throb so he just _did it,_ wrenching himself up by the hips until he was upright, mumbling under his breath “I can do this, I can do this…” (1)

Hux let himself go limp, falling onto his shoulder with a sickening crack.

He wasn’t sure if it was a minute or a day before he came back to himself, shoulder humming dully. Tongue dragging against dried lips, his sights swirled into alignment, and he lifted one hand to the other, scratching at the slightly cooler wrist chrono until he found purchase, counting to three and yanking.

It didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought, but he nearly vomited as the circle of dying skin peeled away from his hand, revealing the slick virgin flesh underneath. He tossed it away before he could gag, daring himself to dip his hand in the snow. He couldn’t tell whether that made it worse or better, as he’d expended his pain and was already attentive toward his implant. (2)

Hux knew for a fact he couldn’t remove it. Not safely, at least. He had an easier time than last sitting up, though pulling himself to his feet was a chore. The shuttle was still in the same place it had been - too far away - but now Hux was faced with another problem.

Finding Ren.

He was simultaneously ashamed and relieved he hadn’t thought of the knight sooner. Now that he had, however, he felt a strange calm, reassured that no, he wasn’t here alone. It never occurred to him to think Ren might be dead, because he had to be alive. He was _Ren._

But maybe that was wishful thinking - the quiet talking. The cochlear was dead, and so the silence he’d always embraced was the only option he had. He hated it and loved it and hated it.

Trudging his way through thick snow, blowing the few flakes that still fell out of his bangs, Hux made it step by grueling step up the slope of the iced plateau to where their ship lay in ruins. The air around the wreck was foul, warped steel nearly unrecognizable. Hux came to a stop a safe distance away, bobbing his knee nervously. Should he approach and look for the other? Not the best idea, he decided, scratching tentatively at the skin around his implant. He turned a full circle, scanning the blue horizon, hoping to catch sight of something, anything.

There. A bundle of black two minutes’ jog away. Hux tested that approximation, stumbling a few times on his way to the charred figure. “Ren…” he breathed, skidding to his knees next to the man, pulling Ren’s shoulder to flip the knight onto his back.

The blood had dried, which was a good sign. It meant the wound was already closed, though there was a sizeable knot on the man’s forehead that had Hux wincing in sympathy. Otherwise, he seemed unharmed, simply out like a light. Hux was curious about that, hesitating before removing his ruined gloves and chucking them away, setting his hands on either side of Ren’s temple. If there was any sort of energy about him, it would be concentrated there. There was something, but just as he brushed it it fled, driven away by his touch. He frowned, watching as Ren’s eyes flitted beneath his lids. Sitting back on his heels as they flickered open, he gave Ren ample space to come around.

The knight’s lips parted minutely, forming words Hux couldn’t decipher. As the man rose Hux shuffled back farther, meeting Ren’s gaze at level. The man’s expression was confused, quizzical, and Hux made out the next phrase to pass Ren’s tongue: his name.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m alive. How, I don’t know…”

Ren’s brows furrowed. He pulled up his leg, bringing a knee near his chin and wincing at the exertion. As he moved the knight shook his head, spilling another incongruous phrase Hux couldn’t follow.

“I can’t understand you,” Hux sighed.

Ren glanced up, face contorting further, but at least Hux could read him. “Why don’t you-”

Hux nodded, tapping lightly at the singed cochlear the other clearly just noticed. Bringing two front-facing fists to the side of his head, he snapped them down and apart. Broken. (3)

Ren nodded, but stopped mid-gesture, eyes shifting as if the light had changed, focusing intently on Hux.

“What?” (4) Hux demanded, not fond of being ogled like some carnival side-show.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

Hux blinked. He’d assumed he was being judged, and there he was again, leaping at any notion he was being undermined or incited. “Yes. Yes, it does hurt,” he replied, thinking that would be pretty obvious. Then, something occurred to him he hadn’t thought of before.

Maybe Ren didn’t know how cochlears worked.

At first it seemed downright _silly_ to him, the possibility that anyone with common sense wouldn’t be able to puzzle out how the implant _helped_ him hear, didn’t _make_ him hear, but it would explain why Ren had treated it like some sort of light-switch the week previous.

“It’s… The part on the surface hurts, yes, where it’s touching my skin. But there’s a safety mechanism that insures any damage to the surface shuts down the whole thing without risk to my head.” (5)

Ren nodded slowly, digesting the information, looking… relieved? Before Hux could analyze the expression it slid away, replaced by indifference. “As long as it won’t be a problem.”

Hux bristled a bit, but feeling insulted wouldn’t do him any good. “It won’t be,” he replied just as carelessly, pushing himself to his feet, watching the other struggle to do the same with smug satisfaction. Once they were both righted they turned to face their ship, sighing at nearly the same moment.

“Well,” he huffed. “Now what? The communicator has to be down. There’s no way to contact the Order. Speaking of which, why didn’t they come get us immediately once we crashed?” Hux looked to Ren inquisitively, expecting an answer.

The knight continued staring out at the wreck, lips pursed. “So many questions.”

Hux was displeased with the answer, not about to let it slide this time. “And so what if I have them?” he replied testily. “I deserve to be answered, Ren. We’re stuck in this together whether you like it or not.”

Ren’s breath puffed from his nose in a slow stream, eyes closing with the motion, lashes catching the last of the crystal light. “First let’s find shelter,” he suggested. “Then we can talk.”

Hux nodded, but by that time Ren was already walking away, and he hurried to catch up, heading back toward the shuttle.

Ren took his time rooting about in the wreckage, coming up with very few salvageable items. The damn lightsaber was the first thing he found, and he looked about ready to kiss it. Hux wasn’t sure whether to be jealous or exasperated. Next came a fire-proof tarp, a med-kit, and an emergency ration pack. The communicator was, as suspected, useless, and so they pulled out, heading toward a distant line of pine trees just as the sun began to fade. They argued about where to spend the night, Ren wanting to enter the forest while Hux merely wanted to skirt the edges. He disliked the busyness of the scenery - it made it difficult for him to focus on any one thing. But Ren, of course, demanded they keep out of the open, and so they stomped through the woods until they’d found a copse suitable to Ren’s tastes. Spreading out the tarp, sharing a small portion of the rations between them, they sat in silence, the general aching from head to toe and the commander staring off into space.

Hux pretended this didn’t aggravate him, reaching for the med-kit at his feet and pulling out some bandages and bacta-pads. “Get over here,” he snapped, startling Ren out of his reverie.

Surprisingly, Ren didn’t fight the order. He shuffled until he sat cross-legged in front of Hux, their knees lightly bumping. Hux ignored the goose-pimples that erupted along his spine, pulling out an alcohol swab and touching it gently to the knot on Ren’s temple.

The knight hissed, flinching. “Keep still…” Hux directed, wiping Ren’s face clean of blood from the injury and his nosebleed. That was another thing to inquire about, but he kept it to himself for the time being, carefully taking up a bacta-pad and adhering it to Ren’s forehead. “There.”

Ren nodded, eyes downcast in thanks. Hux cleared his throat, making to back away, but Ren caught him, enveloping a hand around his wrist just below the throbbing, peeled skin. Hux yielded, falling still as Ren returned the favor, gently wetting the burnt and torn flesh before wrapping it firmly.

“You have questions.” Ren’s focus was intent on Hux’s wrist, but Hux could still make out the man’s words.

“I do,” he replied, not about to deny it now that Ren finally seemed willing to answer him. He made to list off the inquiries that never received a response, but it seemed he didn’t have to.

“I knew the map was on Devaron because I’d gone ahead myself.” Ren sat back, tucking away the medical supplies and setting them aside before continuing. “Of course a scout alerted me to their suspicions, which I naturally pursued. I knew immediately upon landing that it was here. What you guessed, about the map having a Force-signature, was correct, and that’s how I could place it within the temple. I tried to enter, but there were… complications.”

It took a not-inconsiderable amount of inductive reasoning for Hux to follow along with Ren’s narration (6), and when he reached the end Hux blinked. “‘Complications’?” he parroted, growing suspicious. “What kind?”

Ren chewed on the inside of his cheek, something Hux would more quickly associate with Mitaka - he _missed_ Mitaka - than the knight of Ren. “Guilty,” he said simply.

Hux pinched the bridge of his nose. Goddammit. Of _course_ that was the only reason Ren wanted him there. Just as a distractor, something else for the charm - vision - whatever! - to latch onto long enough for Ren to retrieve the map. They hadn’t been entirely successful, obviously, as Ren was still affected and their evasion came at a price. Hux was feeling ever more the fool for thinking Ren ever valued his assistance, and _especially_ so for thinking Ren was _pretty_.

“Bastard…” he mumbled under his breath.

“Guilty.”

Hux snorted with laughter, suddenly finding the situation unbearably funny. “Bastard,” he repeated atop a giggle, Ren’s face too close and his eyes too bright. “Ableist, sick, sick ableist…”

Ren frowned, nose twitching like a disgruntled rabbit. “Why do you call me that?”

Hux cleared his throat, schooling his features. He’d been surprisingly lax about keeping his composure, but given the circumstances he could forgive himself. “I call you that because it’s true. And no, I will not stop until you’ve learned a thing or two.”

“Then teach me.”

Hux paused. It… wasn’t something he’d ever actually considered doing. He’d always assumed Ren was against any sort of cultural discourse from the beginning, but here he was, asking, and maybe he’d underestimated Ren in some respects. Certainly in his capacity for honesty.

Well then, he’d just have to be honest right back. “Of course,” he agreed, smiling lightly.

Ren seemed surprised that Hux would agree, but not only. Something else flickered across his gaze, elusive. Hux dismissed it, as now he held a captive audience and he wouldn't be giving that up on a whim.

“Do you know how this works?” he began, tapping gently at his cochlear.

“It doesn’t work.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “Very funny,” he replied, gifted as projecting sarcasm. “But do you know how it’s _supposed_ to work?”

Ren looked like he wanted to say yes, he did know, but reluctantly shook his head.

Hux was satisfied. “Come here,” he said, gesturing with two bent hands. (7)

Ren was dubious, but shuffled as close as he could, crossed legs now pressed flush to Hux’s. Refusing to let any sort of color paint his cheeks, he lifted what remained of the hair that normally concealed his implant, leaning forward. Ren drew back, and Hux rolled his eyes. “There’s no blood and it doesn’t bite,” he stated plainly, catching Ren’s sharp glare and ignoring it.

Turning his head to the right, Hux pointed at the clip around his ear. “This is the audio processor. It picks up sound and converts it into digital code - probably what’s been broken. This,” - he trailed a finger up - “Is the coil, which sends the code to the actual implant, below the skin. The implant transmits the code into electrical signals which stimulate the cochlea, sending ‘sound’ signals to the brain.” (8)

Ren nodded along dutifully. “So… Does that make it easier or harder to understand people?”

Hux hadn’t expected such an inciteful question, but was eager to answer it. “It depends. For me, it’s more about having the willpower to turn it on than needing to.”   

Ren frowned, chewing over his thoughts before speaking. “But if it helps you why does it take willpower to use?”

Sighing, Hux ran a hand through his hair. The answer to that question was… complicated. “It doesn’t always help me,” he said. “Because I don’t always need help. But, sometimes it’s easier to keep it on for others’ sakes.” Hux took his time thinking over what he meant to say next. He didn’t intend to insinuate Ren in anything, or blame him for not knowing, but… “The cochlear is about comfort, for me, and ease. Even though I didn’t _choose_ to have an implant, it’s here now and it gives me a choice. Sometimes, yes, I do need it, but people see it as a crutch, and so do I. Having to turn it on takes that choice away. My choice to be strong on my own.”

Hux’s eyes had drifted away out of habit, unfocused as he devoted his attention to pronouncing each word as clearly as he could. Ren needed to understand this. Everyone needed to understand this, and he was saying it now in a calm, collected way he’d never tried to explain it in before. He was proud of himself, in that moment, and brought his gaze back up to meet Ren’s.

For all he was a stern man, Hux would never, ever get over those eyes. Seeing the dim light of the their evening campfire off to the side and the spark of wonderment lurking unbidden beneath an ensnaring layer of brown was all the reward he needed for his words. However twisted it seemed, Hux was grateful the mask had met its fate in the crash, allowing him to see Ren as he hadn’t seen him before: open.  

“And people think that’s frightening.”

It took Hux a moment to connect Ren’s words to his own. “Yes, they do. They think my lack of hearing dehumanizes me, so they treat me like-”

“No.” Ren cut him off gently, shaking his head as the corner of his mouth turned up in a faint, befuddled grin. “No, that’s not it. It’s not your being deaf that frightens people. It’s that choice to be strong on your own.”  

Confusion was the first thing Hux felt, but it quickly blossomed into something warm, and a soft smile played at his own lips. “You mean my Deafness?”

Ren’s face scrunched up again. Very endearing. “No, didn’t you-”

Hux chuckled. “No, I didn’t _hear_ anything, dipshit,” he jabbed, but in good nature. “I’m talking about this.” He rocked himself forward, onto his knees, nearly on top of Kylo, turning to pick up one of the corners of the tarp. With a pale finger he wrote out a lowercase ‘d’ followed by a capital ‘D’.

“This,” he said, pointing at the lowercase ‘d’, “Is the condition of not being able to hear. This,” he tapped the uppercase ‘D’, “Is embracing it.” He glanced over his shoulder at Ren expectantly.

The knight was nodding, and Hux beamed, withdrawing his red-tipped finger from the snow. He shuffled back to where he’d been sitting before, crossing his legs at the ankle and drawing his knees to his chin.  

“Well, that was productive,” he commented, rubbing his hands together, seeking some friction.

“Not as productive as it might have been,” Ren replied, and Hux frowned at that. “I never answered the rest of your questions,” he clarified, “And I was hoping you’d teach me some signs.”

Hux blinked, excitement redoubling. “Really?” he asked, certain it showed in his voice.

Ren smirked. “Really,” he repeated, picking at the fingers of his gloves until first one came off and then the other. Handing them to Hux, he snubbed their fire with a flick of the wrist and lay down on his back, eyes fluttering closed. He said something, probably “Get some rest,” and Hux willingly complied, laying down and turning onto his good shoulder.

Glad to be facing away from the other - but not for the usual reasons - he tugged on the too-big gloves and cradled his hands beneath his cheek. A faint smile lingered on his face as he closed his eyes and fell to sleep, dreaming of brown eyes and hair and two sets of hands.

Damn.

* * *

 

 Notes:

(1) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

(2) I can not say with any certainty that a cochlear would survive a shuttle crash, especially considering no such event has been recorded ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

(3) ["Broken."](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/b/break.htm)

(4) ["What?"](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/w/what.htm)

(5) Again, the magic of Sci-Fi!

(6) Lip-reading is not an easily-cultivated skill; it requires a lot of filling in the blanks and contextual analysis.

(7) The [bent hand shape](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-layout/handshapes.htm) is towards the bottom of the index, past the alphabet :)

(8) If I got anything wrong, please correct me!

 

Come talk to me on [tumblr!](http://www.imaginehux.tumblr.com)

 


	4. The Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are you being so kind? What did you see on Devaron? What changed when the mask came off?” 
> 
> “So-”
> 
> “-many questions, yes, I know. And… I haven’t much of a right to ask you any of these ones, but-”
> 
> “It’s alright. It’s alright. I’ll answer them, gladly. But…”

When morning came, breaking across the shallow horizon in fine strands of pink and blue, snaking through low-lying branches to cast themselves across freckled cheeks, Hux awoke, feeling practically reborn, sad to see the beautiful light go as he pulled himself upward, strands fading into the tangle of pine. He wet his lips, breathing in the sharp, clean scent of evergreen. He craned his neck, stretching out the kinks in his back.

He also managed to twist his fragile shoulder, letting out a vocal hiss.

As if summoned by a kindred call, Ren appeared at his side, taking Hux’s shoulder gently in his hands and pulling down his frayed uniform top, revealing a spattering of greenish bruises along the inflamed joint.

“Ah!” Hux winced in protest as Ren ran his fingertips over the lesion.

“You should have said something,” Kylo scolded, expression hard as he righted Hux’s jacket. Hux shrugged, nearly sheepish, but was more intent on forcing the chill out of his bones, bemoaning the absence of his greatcoat. He traced Ren’s movements, watching as the knight made to remove his cloak.

“No,” he said shortly. “I’ve already taken your gloves.”

Holding his hands up in abject surrender, Ren desisted, rocking back on his heels and rising to his feet. His lips moved, but the angle was too high for Hux to discern what was said.

“Hey,” he said, raising an arm and snapping his fingers - an awkward movement with the over-large gloves - to get Ren’s attention. “Couldn’t see you.”

Ren seemed taken-aback, but with surprise rather than insult. “I said we should make our way back to the crash sight. It seems we’re lucky enough not to have landed somewhere with a large population of wild animals, so it’ll do more good than harm to move where we can be seen.”

Hux nodded. The man’s logic seemed sound enough, and he felt a strange sense of security in the man’s company.

It was a short trip back to their craft, the wind picking up small flurries of snowflakes that brushed against their cheeks. Hux’s nose was a bright red, and by the time they settled down to re-spread the tarp he was covering his face with one of Ren’s thick gloves, trying to conserve heat. Ren seemed to find this amusing, something akin to allure settling across his features. Hux filed that away for another time, focusing his sights on the sky with the furtive hope their rescue might come soon. Otherwise, a comfortable quiet descended, atmosphere peaceful and unhurried. It wasn’t something Hux was used to, but he found himself enjoying it nonetheless. Perhaps it wasn’t such a big deal they hadn’t been picked up immediately.

A slender fingers settled on his arm, drawing Hux from his thoughts. He turned his sights to Ren, who quickly removed his hand, bringing a finger to his chin before looping it to his ear (1). It was a clumsy motion, but Hux got the jist, breaking into a confused grin.

“Where did you learn that?” he asked upon a chuckle, befuddled and amused.

Ren for once in his life looked humble, maybe even embarrassed. “It’s one of the first things you ever signed to me,” he said, gaze downcast. “I remember because you stopped signing after that.”

Hux’s lips parted to reply, but he hadn’t anything to say. The corner of his mouth quirked into a small, sad smile. “I was probably yelling at you,” he reasoned. “That’s the sign for ‘deaf’.” He repeated the motion before dropping his hand.

Ren nodded, and said nothing else for a few moments before visibly collecting himself to speak. “What other signs are worth knowing?”

Hux smiled, launching into a mini-lesson on the basics of finger-spelling, grammar, and the parameters of signing. He could have talked for hours on the subject, but tried to keep things brief, correcting Ren’s form and helping him string together basic sentences. It was a surprisingly intimate experience, running his palms across Ren’s, shaping them into expressions of trust and fear and happiness. When he deemed the man satisfactorily inundated into the tenets of signing, he pulled away, joy easing off his face as he deemed their gratifying interaction had come to an end.

Ren’s enthusiasm faded as well, and the pair shared a long, heavy moment between them, wherein the only betrayal of thought or emotion came from each other’s eyes. Still large, still brown, still beautiful, Hux could do little else but observe what he’d already come to relish, tucking it away into a coveted corner of his heart.

“Why are you being so kind? What did you see on Devaron? What changed when the mask came off?”

“So-”

“-many questions, yes, I know. And… I haven’t much of a right to ask you any of these ones, but-”

“It’s alright. It’s alright. I’ll answer them, gladly. But…”

Hux’s head canted slightly, waiting for Ren to finish his statement. The cold had saturated him completely, no longer a preoccupation, and so the knight had his undivided attention.

Kylo broke into a hesitant smile. It was beautiful, a full line of teeth standing starkly from his dark form, brought further to light by the snow beyond him. “There’s something I want to try.”

Hux’s heart caught in his throat. He swallowed roughly, nodding his assent. Kylo nodded, bringing up a hand to gently take his gloves from Hux’s lap. He’d removed them while he was teaching, and now they were discarded, tossed to the side for the elements to claim. Watching Ren reach forward and take his palms between fingers and thumb was like witnessing a romance underwater - slow and reverent, smooth slide of skin against skin where he hadn’t quite noticed it before, absorbed in his teaching. The man’s touch was calloused and warm, warmer still than his gloves or even his gaze. Brown and green eyes remained connected for another long, still moment before Hux felt the snowflakes catching in his eyelashes, collecting around his brows and hairline and the corners of his mouth. The wind must have picked up, but no, it hadn’t, nothing about their surroundings had changed. The only thing that had was the way Ren was looking at him, bright and intense, concentrated.

“Wh… What are you doing?” he breathed, confused as his cheeks grew numb and his fingernails tingled. Daring a glance down, trying to keep completely immobile, he saw the outlines of his hands completely ensconced in crystal snowflakes, wide and shimmering.

“You look beautiful…”

Breathing hitched, he looked back up, meeting Ren’s wide, happy grin. “What…?”

Ren’s eyes closed, and with them the flakes departed, scattering delicately, suspended in the air as they drifted away, a vague silhouette stolen on the wind.

“I can feel you now.”

Hux frowned, vainly searching Ren’s face for further explanation.

Ren sighed, eyelids parting. “If I were to enter someone’s mind, I would feel where they end and the universe begins. I would feel the edges, frayed or firm.” He dropped Hux’s hand, only bringing his palm to Hux’s cheek, resting his thumb just under his eye, stroking the delicate skin. His face was devoid of anything but honesty, something pure and bright Hux could only have dreamed of seeing.

“I wouldn’t read your mind. I’m too afraid for that. But now I know where you are.”

Hux would have been sorely confused if he wasn’t absolutely breathtaken. “What changed when the mask came off, Ren?” he repeated, barely a whisper.

Ren’s lips quirked in chuckle. “You’re so much brighter than what I could see.”

Positively amazed, expression awestruck, Hux felt tears play at the backs of his eyes. “No one’s ever-”

“Said that before?” Ren nodded kindly. “That’s why I said it.”

A breathy laugh passed Hux’s teeth, setting the nerves on end. He was painfully aware of how little space existed between them - when did _that_ happen? - and how close Ren’s lips were to his, getting closer.

“Ren?” he breathed, eyes nearly crossed to see the other’s face and read his mouth.

“Kylo.”

“Kylo…” This time he hadn’t the air to form a question, his lips a bare breath away from-

And suddenly Kylo wasn’t there. Blinking and bewildered, Hux watched as the man leapt to his feet large eyes fixed to something high above Hux couldn’t see. Craning his neck so he could look over his shoulder, Hux caught sight of vague blurs in the distance, metallic against the soft whiteness of the sky. TIE fighters. They’d been rescued.

Hux wasn’t sure whether or not to be happy about it.

“Ow!” He let out a disgruntled shout as he was dragged to his feet, surprised by the sudden rough treatment. Kylo’s lips formed a flurry of words he couldn’t understand, spoken too fast and too frantically. “Slow down!” he chastised.

“I can’t!” (2) Kylo’s form was still sloppy, but his inflection was spot-on.

Hux was put off, watching dumbly as Kylo unwrapped his ridiculous black scarf and fastened it over his head, leaving only his eyes to be seen. The gloves flew back to their owner’s hands, fitting around bony knuckles and leaving Hux’s stomach to sink into his boots.

When the TIEs landed and the single shuttle’s bay opened, Hux grimaced at the snow kicked into his face, stinging and impersonal. Kylo breezed past him, steps heavy and shoulders slumped. Hiding again. Hux pursed his lips, agitated, stepping onto the shuttle with him and subjecting himself to the usual examination at the hands of the medical aids.

 

-

 

The steady thrumming of the box spring beneath his duvet sent bolts of friction ricketing up his spine, beautifully alight with the steady tremors of the music’s intoxicating rhythm. Sprawled face-down, nose pressed against his mattress and arms flat at his sides, Hux could feel every note course over the skin of his palms, could breathe in the vibrations that set his heart racing, making him sticky with sweat and ecstasy.  

The music abruptly stopped, and Hux whipped his head up, propping his chin on the blankets. He glared mildly. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he said aloud, too lazy to lift his arms.

Mitaka grinned. “I’m sure I’ve invoked your wrath,” he signed, sitting on the edge of Hux’s bed as the general rolled over. “I have news from the bridge.”

Hux groaned, tossing his elbow over his face. “No.” (3)

Mitaka took Hux’s arm and pried it off the man’s eyes. “Yes.” (4)  

“Phasma?” Hux inquired, sitting properly so Mitaka wouldn’t have to read his palms upside-down. “Another bounty hunter? The Hutts? What?” He was exhausted and cranky, having spent most of the afternoon overseeing repairs in the auxiliary engines.

Mitaka grimaced. “Something else. But for now Ren wants to see you.”

Hux pounded his fist against the mattress. “No!” he signed, pinching his fingers in front of Mitaka’s eyes excessively. “Let’s talk about anything else. Let’s talk about you getting laid, how about that?”

Mitaka batted Hux’s hand away, scrunching his nose in comic distaste. “Sorry,” (5) he shrugged. “Lord Ren requested your presence as soon as you are able.”

Hux nodded resignedly, slipping on his boots with little care for where his pant-legs fell. “I fully expect there to be chili on my nightstand when I get back,” he said aloud, folding his (new) greatcoat across his arm.

“Yes, sir,” Mitaka grinned, pulling Hux in for a quick hug before letting the general stride out the door.

Setting his legs on autopilot, Hux tugged up his sleeve to access his (also new) wrist-chrono, deftly typing in a command on the compact screen. A small grid arose, outlining the Finalizer in mechanical blue, a fine red dot standing out in Kylo’s quarters. Immediately course-correcting, Hux let a demeanor of cool resolve drape itself about his features as he entered.

It wasn’t that he was nervous he and Kylo would revert back to their usual - whatever it was, but that was exactly it. He’d hoped he’d have at least the night to himself to recover from their ordeal and put things into perspective - filter out what must have been circumstance and replace it with critical thinking, rationalize what could work between them-

Luckily, he didn’t get much time to think before a pair of full lips were pressed against his and the door behind them closed.

“Kylo…” Wrapping an arm around the knight’s shoulders, he brought a hand to card through dark curls, pulling the man as close as he possibly could. “The TIEs had already gone to light by the time we-”

“Stop talking.” (6)

Hux let out a huff of laughter, proud and relieved all at once. Bringing their lips together, he closed his eyes, entirely devoted to the taste of Kylo’s lips and the weight of his breath, opening his mouth to let their tongues mingle.

Kylo groaned happily, vibrations cascading down Hux’s spine, straight to his groin. He bucked his hips towards Kylo’s touch, and Kylo obeyed. A layer of clothes fell to the floor, and soon two, Hux’s heart throbbing along with the weight between his legs. Collapsing back onto Kylo’s bed, their bodies met, and the night passed gently between the sheets.

* * *

 

Notes:

(1) [Deaf](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/d/deaf.htm)

(2) ["Can't"](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/c/cant.htm)

(3) ["No."](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/n/no.htm)

(4) ["Yes."](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/y/yes.htm)

(5) ["Sorry."](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/s/sorry.htm)

(6) ["Stop talking." ](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/s/shut-up.htm)


	5. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m afraid we do have news, sir,” Phasma confessed, “And it isn’t good.” 
> 
> Hux took a moment to absorb this, not quite ready for whatever the captain had to say. “Give me five minutes.”
> 
> Ten minutes later Hux was in an uproar.

Rough shaking jolted Hux awake, and the general groaned, rolling over begrudgingly. He figured it was already late the next morning - later than he should ever be for bridge duty - and expected to find Kylo leering over him with a lopsided grin on his face.

Instead, he was unpleasantly surprised.

“What the hell!?” Scrambling upright, pressing his back against the headboard and yanking the sheets across his naked lap, Hux stared disbelievingly at the snickering duo in front of him.

Mitaka’s nose was scrunched with laughter, wrist pressed against his clearly laughing mouth. “How was it then?” the lieutenant signed, kneeling at the foot of the bed expectantly, like some sort of cat. Behind him stood Captain Phasma, helmet removed and smiling smugly.

“None of your gods-damn business, that’s how it was!” Hux snapped, still in shock. “And what in the _galaxy_ are you-!”

“The door was _wide_ open,” Phasma informed him, still smiling. Hux wished he could wipe the grin right off her face, but refrained, going red to his ears.

“What do you mean, _open?”_ he demanded, glancing around the room furtively, thankful to note the door was now closed. “Where’s Ky- Lord Ren?”

Mitaka and Phasma shared a conspiratorial glance. “First-name basis then, are we?” Mitaka teased.

“Shut up,” Hux muttered, tempted to slap the man but settling for swatting the air. “Get me my clothes and get out, if all you were planning to do was humiliate me.”

The humor in the air abruptly faded, Mitaka and Phasma’s faces falling into serious expressions. “I’m afraid we do have news, sir,” Phasma confessed, “And it isn’t good.”

Hux took a moment to absorb this, not quite ready for whatever the captain had to say. “Give me five minutes.”

 

-

 

Ten minutes later Hux was in an uproar.

The map had been stolen. Fucking _stolen!_ Just when victory was in the palm of their hand - the rest of the map recovered from the archives of the Empire - the critical piece was snatched by the Creche - of all the sith-spawned organizations! - and whisked away. Hux was positively _seething_ , hardly able to believe his troopers had failed him so spectacularly, succumbing to a simply raid! He’d left them alone for _one bloody day!_

“Next time, I’m putting Mitaka in charge…” (1) he vowed, storming into the conference center. He was surprised to note the lights had been raised, the chasmous space usually reserved for the Supreme Leader bright with artificial rays, almost blindingly so. Kylo stood before the empty dias, back to the doors and a new helmet in place.

Hux disliked the scene immediately, compounding his already foul mood. “Ren, what is the meaning of this?” he demanded firmly, as if they hadn’t just had sex the night before. He did, however, fully expect Kylo to remove the mask so they could properly speak, as his cochlear had yet to be repaired.

Kylo did not, and Hux felt like ramming his head in with an iron.

Moment by bitter moment, he reigned his urges in, heart hammering in his chest as he approached the knight until it abated to a dull roar. Contained. Hands shaking, imperceptible, Hux reached out, found the fastenings on the helmet, pulled it off. Kylo’s tired eyes greeted him, still shining, but not as bright…

Contained.

Hux frowned, letting the helmet slip from his hand and clatter to the floor, disgraced. “Kylo. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.”

 

-

 

The cold ceiling leered down at him, unmoving and humiliating. Biting the inside of his lip, Hux stared resolutely up, challenging it to do its worst, mock him further if it so pleased. An incessant twitch tugged at his mouth, inviting him to form an angry sneer. He obliged, ignoring the press of the droids at his sides and the buzz he couldn’t hear.

In a moment of weakness he cast his gaze to the side, watching as a ginger lock fell to the floor, then two. They needed room to operate, and the mark of Hux’s singularity simply wasn’t going to cut it.

 

-

 

“Kylo, what’s going on?” Hux repeated, moving the hand that dropped the helmet to Kylo’s chin, forcing the knight to meet his gaze. He was worried, and ambiguity would give him no pleasure.

Kylo’s gaze was somber, apologetic. For long moments he didn’t speak, grinding his jaw before something behind his resolve snapped, and he surged forward, kissing Hux fiercely, feverishly.

Hux reeled, confusion dancing with delight.

“I’ve loved you for ages…”

 

-

 

He hadn’t felt air good and proper against his scalp for a long time. Hair now trimmed impeccably to military standard, he tilted his chin obediently as a ventilator was slipped over his head, adjusted so the machine could do the breathing while he was under. Hux refused to be transported as he had been on Devaron: back to being a child awaiting his inevitable fate. No. Here, he was making the decision himself. Here, this was the only option.

The anesthetics were switched on, and he closed his eyes.

 

-

 

“No you haven’t…”

“I have.” Kylo was holding Hux’s face between gloved palms, looking at him, straight through him, a manic gleam in his eye. “I do. I dreamed about last night for ages before it happened…”

Hux’s brows furrowed, breath coming in uncomfortable gasps as Kylo occupied his personal space. “Dreamed…?”

“Visions… I couldn’t keep lying to you…!” He ducked down, pulling Hux flat against him and kissing him again.

Hux shook his head, protesting, wanting answers, pushing away to see Kylo’s face properly. “Visions? Lying? Kylo, please, explain this!” he implored.  

Kylo sighed, releasing Hux and taking a single step back. A single step, nothing more. Hux was glad of it.

“I saw us. Together. Many times over the course of these past few months. At first I thought they were dreams, and I tried to suppress them. Remind myself you were no more than a cog in Supreme Leader’s machine. But he could sense them, said they were visions. He encouraged them out of me, rid me of of attachment. Ordered me never to remove my helmet in your presence…” Here Kylo seemed to falter, the excitement dying from his words as he cast an erstwhile gaze at the mask at Hux’s feet. He extended a hand, brought the helmet into his grasp. Stared at it for a long time.

“But when this assignment came the Supreme Leader said personal interaction was unavoidable. He knew where to find the missing piece of the map. He knew about the temple on Devaron. He knew what would happen - an old Force trick Skywalker had cast, an illusion used to train Jedi of old (2). I told you I used you, after, but I still lied to you. The briefing too, that was simply my way of gauging what I might expect from you. Figure out how to contain whatever I’d begun to _feel._ ” The word was spat like some sort of disease, and Hux could barely wrap his sights around it, let alone his mind.

“So…” Hux licked his lips, heart clenching painfully in his chest. “All of this was… what? Some sort of _game_ to him?” Anger crept in on the edges of his tongue, but he kept it at bay, shoulders rocking back and forth with the effort. “To _you?”_ he accused.

_“No!”_ Kylo hissed, perceptible by the baring of his teeth. “Supreme Leader didn’t anticipate the crash.” Kylo’s expression gentled. “Neither did I…”

“So what, you just decided to succumb to some sort of preordained mumbo jumbo? Is that how love works to you?” Hux nearly scoffed, still struggling to absorb what he’d just been told. “That’s not love, that’s… obsession.”

Kylo shook his head adamantly, the strange lights bouncing off his frazzled hair. “It’s not just _preordained._ It’s written in the stars! It’s the future! It was bound to happen and it _did_ , don’t you see?” Kylo smiled toothily, upsetting something deep in Hux’s gut.

Hux intended to refute that, claim Kylo only fell for him _because_ he thought it was inevitable. But that wasn’t really true, was it? They’d spent time together. Learned things about each other. Hux had watched Kylo observe him, seen things as they’d changed in the knight’s eyes. That _hadn’t_ been the inevitable.

“Kylo… What am I doing here?”

The smile redoubled, and Hux took a cautious, microscopical step back.

“Supreme Leader is angry. About the map, yes. But also about you. He could sense it the moment I entered, what we’d done. It can’t happen again.”

Hux’s eyes grew wide, upset quickly turning into outrage. _“What.”_

Kylo’s teeth faded out of sight, plush lips forming a perfect, neutral arc. “Nothing can stand in our way. The First Order is rising. You know that. Your Starkiller project is a testament to that, and is almost complete. We can not afford distractions. Especially not you.”

Hux’s very mind froze. “Was… that a _threat?”_ he seethed. “Was that- … Those were _his_ words, weren’t they?”

“He’s right.”

“To _hell_ he’s right!”

“Hux. You asked why you’re here. You’re here to say goodbye.”

“And what the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?!” Hux demanded, pissed and tired and wanting nothing more than to slap Kylo’s hands away as they lifted the helmet, bringing it up to cover onyx locks. “Don’t you dare…” he breathed. Too late. The helmet was on.

He’d just been fucking _snubbed._

Kylo approached, and Hux refused to back away, glaring at the slits with all the hate he could possibly muster. The mask bobbed with the appropriate movements of a man _speaking_ , the bastard, and Hux growled, taking the helmet in his hands as he’d done earlier, forsaking the clasps and just wrenching it forward, cramming his lips against the mouthpiece, licking at it with love and lust and _spite._  

Hux pulled away, satisfied with a job well done.

A long second passed where neither moved. Hux cleared his throat, dropping his eyes in a moment of hesitation before he brought them back up, chin held high.

“Goodbye, _Lord Ren_.”

He left without another word.

 

-

 

Coming out of surgery was even less remarkable the second time than it had been the first. His surroundings swam slowly back into perspective, and he was helped to his feet by a serviceable droid, who gave him a datapad laden with information on his new upgrade. Upgrade. Like it would do him any more good than it had the first time.

But, out of he and Ren, one of them had to be mature.

Ren had very limited options. Either let emotion control him and cost them both their careers, or set it aside for the greater good of the Order. The correct path was clear. Hux could see that now, but Ren could have been less _petty_ about it. The man could have extended the basic human courtesy and foregone the helmet, now that he’d learned a sign or two. It wouldn’t have been that difficult.

But evidently, Snoke was offering no alternative. So Hux made the choice for them both. The cochlear was coming back on.

His choice.

Practically forced down his throat, but his choice.

The droids were vehemently opposed to Hux leaving so abruptly (3), but he brushed them off, signing the required forms and heading back to his rooms, door breezing shut behind him. The steady hum of the Finalizer was a bit jarring after so long in pure silence, but he welcomed it like an old, estranged friend.

Mitaka was waiting to pour him a stiff drink, and he welcomed it gratefully.

Anyone else might have asked about the cochlear, asked about Ren, but the lieutenant did not, knocking back a glass of Corellian whiskey at the same moment Hux did. The drink came with a pleasant burn, and Hux cleared his throat of the sting, setting down his glass. A moment of silence passed before Mitaka set his aside as well, shaking his head.

“This won’t do,” he signed, moving off to Hux’s desk and typing in a few commands on the wall console. Quiet music filled the room, big band by the sounds of it (4), with an unintrusive rhythm and a danceable beat.

Hux couldn’t help cracking a grin, shaking his head fondly as Mitaka made his way back over and took Hux’s hand, pulling him in. “You always know how to cheer me up, don’t you?”

Mitaka shrugged in a show of modesty, resting a palm on Hux’s hip as they fell into step with the tune. “Known you long enough, haven’t I?” he joked. Hux chuckled, letting Mitaka take the lead, relaxing. A happy minute passed before Mitaka spoke again. “How’s your head?”

Hux sighed. “Fine. They didn’t fuck anything up too badly.”

Mitaka raised an eyebrow. “And... the rest?”

He rested a cheek against the side of Mitaka’s head, the man’s hair tickling his nose. “Fine.”

“Really?”  

Hux nodded again, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Mitaka’s hand wove its way to the nape of his neck, holding Hux close as a few drops of water stained the shoulder of the shorter man’s uniform, choked-off sobs lost to the music.

_Because I never knew…_

_That you would love me too…_

_Ah! But I’ve learned…_

“I’m fine…”

“Hux.”

“I’m fine.”

* * *

 

 Notes:

(1) "Sir. We were unable to acquire the droid on Jakku."

(2) Reference to the Tree on Dagobah

(3) I am unfamiliar with the recovery time for a 'cochlear replacement,' but who knows in Space  ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

(4) [Ah! But I've Learned!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EJ6Ho6XXg54)

 

Come talk to me on [tumblr!](http://www.imaginehux.tumblr.com)


	6. Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not him.”
> 
> Slowly turning to the knight, he finally absorbed the man’s presence. “Get out of my head then,” he seethed, refusing to let any emotion but anger rear its ugly head. 
> 
> “Your cochlear is on. I know why.” The helmet was on too, and Hux broadcasted the thought as loudly as he could.

“I don’t get it.”

“He said he loved you, didn’t he? Why would he break it off so suddenly?”

“Maybe he went insane…”

Hux sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t particularly want to talk about this, but Mitaka seemed determined. “I don’t know,” (1) he signed, closing his eyes and resting his head on the man’s chest. Hux’s throat was hoarse from crying and drink, body sprawled across the lieutenant’s on his modest couch. 

“You know what, I take it back, he’s always been insane. Maybe that’s the problem.”

Hux simply nodded, cochlear buzzing incessantly, gray walls a monotonous blur in his unfocused vision. This was by far the laziest he’s ever been in his thirty-four years of life, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel remorse, or anything, really.

“If it hurts your head, why are you keeping it on?”

“Because,” Hux answered vaguely, not in the mood to justify himself aloud.

Mitaka grunted, the movement in his chest jarring Hux to change positions, resting his cheek on a shoulder instead. “Gotta be the responsible one, is that it?” the man ventured. “You’re _both_ nuts…”

Hux frowned. “How am _I_ nuts compared to Kylo fucking Ren?” he grumbled.

There was silence for a time, as if Mitaka was truly thinking about the question. “Well, it’s all perspective, I suppose. Think about it.” _No_ , Hux wanted to say, but didn’t. “You said Ren said you frighten people - i.e., him - because of your will to be strong on your own, right? Well, maybe what he did was his way of emulating that. You always do what’s necessary for the good of the Order, and maybe he figured you would break it off anyways, so why not take control of the situation and be the strong one instead?”

Hux blinked, wide eyes unseeing. His throat went dry, lips falling slack as the cogs of the machine stuttered into clarity.

_“Was that- … Those were_ his _words, weren’t they?”_

_“He’s right.”_

He thought they’d been talking about Snoke.

They were really talking about _him_.

_“Nothing can stand in our way. The First Order is rising. You know that. Your Starkiller project is a testament to that, and is almost complete. We can not afford distractions. Especially not you.”_

The drag of his own teeth grinding together jarred him out of bitter contemplation.

“Hux? Bren, you okay?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Rolling off the couch, he pulled himself to his feet, pressing the creases from his jacket and trousers before retrieving his greatcoat and gloves.

Hux had briefly considered Ren was trying to noble. But that couldn’t be it. The way the man’s eyes had gleamed and his voice trembled was not the mark of a man doing what he felt was right. It was a man driven by paranoia, doing what was _necessary._

But it hadn’t been necessary, nor _mature_ , as Hux had incorrectly labeled himself. They’d been working together. They’d grown to respect each other, however brief a time it had taken. The pair were compatible - romantic interest aside - and certainly more productive than they had been before the mask was removed. Ren didn’t need to put it back on for the good of the Order.

So, someone had to have planted the idea in Ren’s head.

And there was only one someone that could be.

“Hux? Where are you going?”

“I’m going to speak with Leader Snoke.”

Mitaka leapt to his feet, blocking Hux’s way out immediately. “No. No, you absolutely _can not_ do that! You’ll get yourself demoted! Or _killed!”_ Mitaka’s eyes were wide with worry at the possibility, and Hux sighed sympathetically.

“Out of my way, Lieutenant,” he said quietly, his signing earnest, not truly wanting to force Mitaka to move. “I can take care of myself, I promise.”

The man seemed ready to protest, but sighed. “Fine,” he said, visibly deflated, stepping out of the way. “I liked your hair better when it was longer.”

Hux smiled as best he could. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Me too.” (2)

Stepping into the hall, angling towards the Audience Chamber, he steeled himself for whatever hellfire he’d face within.

 

-

 

“General, how very... _presumptuous_ of you.”

Hux glared determinedly up at the hologram, sneering. “Due respect, Supreme Leader, but you’ve heard me. What is your response?”

Snoke brought a long, pale finger to his chin, a crooked sort of smile gracing his contorted features. The figure had been silent through most of Hux’s discourse, which was more troubling to the general than rage.

“Your reasoning is flawed,” Snoke snarled. “What you have described to me is a relationship between two rational beings.”

Hux nodded. He’d tried to convey just that: the possibility of he and Ren functioning together, more intimately, ultimately _for_ the good of the Order,, not against it. Snoke was the source of this preconceived notion he and Ren were more efficient apart, and Hux logically presented his case; they complemented each other, fire and ice.

Obviously, somewhere he went wrong.

“Supreme Leader, I do not-”

A noise erupted low from Snoke’s throat, and Hux cringed.

“What you wish is impossible.”

Hux frowned, staring up at his superior in confusion. Intending to speak, the words died on his tongue as Kylo Ren materialized from the shadows behind the throne.

Hux’s gaze snapped back to the dias. “You assured me we were alone!” he accused, but this only served to entertain Snoke further.

“Only so I might confirm to him your true nature…” The words were low and menacing, posture hunched, a finger outstretched. “ _Ir_ rational.”

Hux blanched. Irrational? Him? But _Ren was the one-_

“Untamed. A monster, as your father made you out to be.”

_-who always lost control…_ lost… World tilting on its axis, Hux struggled to recover himself as his thoughts and words were thrown in his face. “Get out of my head.”

“It’s not him.”

Slowly turning to the knight, he finally absorbed the man’s presence. “Get _out of my head then,_ ” he seethed, refusing to let any emotion but anger rear its ugly head.

“Your cochlear is on. I know why.” The _helmet_ was on too, and Hux broadcasted the thought as loudly as he could.

“I’m not an idiot, Ren,” he stated, arms crossed firmly behind his back, glaring up at Ren as the  man neared, looming over him. “I know you think you’re doing what you must, but we _mustn't_ do anything. He has no right to tell us what we can and can not do _in our own privacy.”_

Half-expecting Mitaka to beat him about the head for sticking his neck on the line, Hux held his ground, gritting his teeth and glaring as Snoke actually _chuckled._ “Kylo…” he pleaded quietly, “You wanted to emulate my control, then control _this_.”

“No!” Hux flinched at Ren’s cry, watching the helmet bob frantically. “I allowed myself to _lose_ control for you, and I’ll keep doing that! Again and again!”

Backing away, head ringing and heart hammering wildly, Hux stammered for the first time in years. “I- What do you _mean?_ Lose control-”

“The planet. The kiss. I’d repeat it twice, thrice over. I’d never be able to stop!” Kylo was falling apart at the hinges, gripping Hux’s arms fiercely, refusing to let him go even as he struggled, mortified at the exchange taking place in front of the _Supreme Leader._

“So- So you’re making me out to be the _villain_ now!” Hux scoffed. “A temptation leading you astray! This is madness! Supreme Leader, you must be able to see-!”

Senses caught in Ren’s hold, Hux nearly keeled over at the sound of Snoke’s uproarious laughter. “You believe you are right, General!” If the creature were capable of anything more human, he’d be wiping a tear from his eye, Hux was sure. Sickening grin still in place, the laughter faded, but the mirth remained. “Only the Order is right.”

Hux shook his head. “I… No- Yes, of course the order is right! But… But…”

His opposition fled him, folly sinking deep in his bones. Ren had been _distracted_ by him. How foolish he’d been... He’d overestimated Ren - considered him free-thinking and capable of compromise, even as the man had cast him aside. He’d _under_ estimated Snoke as some sort of equal. And most important, he’d overestimated his own worth.

He was nothing but a pawn in the ultimate duel, mistaking desire for something more. Something _useful_ . His base desires had overwhelmed him, and Snoke was right. He _was_ irrational, and if he’d stepped much further out of line he might have cost the Order a valuable asset for the sake of _etiquette_.

“I… You’re right…”

“And we’re suddenly to believe you,” Ren scoffed.

“I’m not lying! Look for it, look in my mind!”

“I _can’t!_ You’re too _bright_ , I can’t…!”

“ _Coward!”_

Wrenching his arms from Ren’s grip, Hux shoved his palms against the knight’s chest, pushing him off his feet.

If he could have seen Ren’s eyes he’d have known he’d gone too far.

Red-tinted slits flared to life from an unknown fire. Kylo Ren was on his feet in a single specter-like move, evaporating, only to reappear where Hux least wanted him. Tension weighed heavy in the air, like a thick fog Hux could taste on his tongue. Greatcoat slipping from his arms, sluggish yet unstoppable, his mouth went slack as a dull pressure wound around his throat, toes tingling as they left the floor, vision swirling and panic pressing against his skull.

“I… I-” He gasped, unable to finish, barely able to see and only just able to hear Ren’s helmet rattle in rage over the whine of his cochlear overloading. “P-”

“Put you down?” Ren’s voice was faint, scrambled as if the vocoder were malfunctioning rather than Hux’s metal ear. “Put you _down?”_ Incredulity and rage laced the words, and Hux could feel it in the shrinking space between them. “ _Please?_ I can’t _hear_ you, General.”

Hux wanted to scream. He wanted to scream loud and hard right in Ren’s ear ‘Can you hear me now you _fucking_ twat?!’ He settled with kicking Ren in the shin, striking the knight hard enough for his hold to be released, leaving Hux free to land hard on his knees and start pummeling Ren’s boots from the floor. His cochlear struggled to recover, catching Ren mid-howl. Hux grinned proudly, ignoring the other’s claws against his back. They thrashed against each other, toppling over and shouting.

“Enough.”

Both men ceased. The word was firm, but failed to rattle the walls or send the ceiling crumbling in. Frozen for a long moment moment, Hux stared up at Ren, cold eyes a terrible hole tearing Ren apart. Peeling themselves from the floor, they stood like chastised children, silent. Neither dared look at Snoke, and they were wise not to.

“Leave me.”

The next minutes passed in a haze, Hux absorbing nothing as they exited the chamber, parting ways in the hall.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

* * *

 

Notes:

(1) ["I don't know."](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/d/dont-know.htm)

(2) ["Me too."](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/s/same.htm)

 

Come talk to me on [tumblr!](http://www.imaginehux.tumblr.com)


	7. City of Blinding Lights (Epilogue)

Weeks passed, and there was no sign of the map. 

The Order searched high and low, Ren on constant dispatch. Regardless of the near-permanent catch in his throat, Hux refused to believe this irked him, keeping vigilant watch over every aspect of the fleet’s operations throughout the system. Scarcely did he stray from his duty, to keep both distracted and on high alert. 

“Sir. We’ve intercepted the Creche.”

Staring out the massive viewports, eyes narrowed in concentration, Phasma’s words were the only music to Hux’s ears in an eternity. 

Caught adrift in a damaged clustership, the Yuuzhan Vong were dragged aboard the Finalizer, stripped of their jagged armor and rusted weaponry. Their pink skin - coarser even than their accessories - shone obscenely in the pale light of the interrogation chambers, all but one refusing to obey the Order’s whims. 

The runt of the lot, brought low by Phasma’s iron fist and Hux’s piercing glare, gave only one name. 

Lor San Tekka.  

“It makes sense. I mean, the San Tekka hid among the Creche for  _ years _ , and they were loyal to him. They would very likely steal the map if it meant something to him-”

“If you would do me the courtesy of  _ shutting up _ , that would be splendid.”

Mitaka fell silent, and Hux refused to acknowledge the hurt in his eyes.

Pushing his best friend away wasn’t easy, but it was necessary, now. Starkiller Base was in the final stages of completion, nearly ready for it’s maiden voyage. The thought weighed against Hux’s mind, and he longed for the day he could see the weapon fired and feel the burden lifted from his shoulders. 

Leaving Mitaka in the hall, the general rounded the corner to the nearest correspondence console, punching in the correct communicator identification. 

“Lord Kylo Ren.” 

Moments later a static network flared to life, Ren’s voice crackling over the wavelengths. 

“General Hux.”

“The Creche has given us a name. Lor San Tekka.”

Ren repeated the title, as if digesting something unpleasant. Hux didn’t really care about the man’s discomfort at this point, but was impatient to learn what Ren already knew. 

“I  _ assume _ you’ll be able to locate him. His last known whereabouts trace to Jakku, a desert planet in-”

“-the Western Reaches, yes,” Ren finished, and Hux huffed. 

“The Finalizer will set course for the system. Expect to rendezvous by 0900 hours.”

The link died without a word, and Hux sneered.

_ “I’ve loved you for ages…” _

So much for that, then. 

 

-

 

By 0905, Ren’s shuttle reached had the Finalizer, and the Finalizer had reached Jakku. By 0920, a fresh battalion of troopers were assigned to Ren’s flank, a unit of FNs.

By 1000 hours, the Resistance pilot was on board. 

The man was scruffy, but Hux had to admit he knew his stuff. After long hours of interrogation, he had yet to yield what he’d done with the map. Hux’s frustration mounted, and he paced the blue-lit halls impatiently, waiting for some sort of result. 

Distracted by his own anxiety, increasingly disturbed by the lack of efficiency his troops displayed, Hux failed to notice Ren appear. 

“Let me try.”

The words were not spoken kindly. Struggling not to launch into an angry tirade about nothing in particular, he jerked his head towards the sealed chamber door.  _ “Be my guest.” _

Ten minutes passed. 

“It’s in a droid. A BB unit.”

“Well, then, if it’s on Jakku, we’ll soon have it.”

* * *

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, everyone, for all your support! I hope this didn't disappoint!


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